— FRANKIE —
10. I REGRET IT ALL
FOUR PLUS YEARS AGO — NOVEMBER 2012
My grip on the handle of the bag tightened in anticipation as I waited on the sidewalk at McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas.
The Las Vegas airport was busy, like an anthill with an army of ants—cars swerving to speed around traffic, vehicles slowing down to pick up passengers, people moving to and from with purpose. The whole airport had felt that way, like it never slept.
It had been so hard not to stare open-mouthed as soon as I got off the plane. Slot machines were scattered throughout the terminal, and large flashing signs and banners advertising various shows were displayed on every available surface. It was an explosion of sound, color, and activity…and it was so different from my home town that I immediately loved it. I had a hard time imagining my quiet Austin living here, but I was sure Vegas suited his twin, Dallas, just fine.
The air outside the doors of the baggage claim was unseasonably warm for December, but it lacked the heaviness of the heat back home where the humidity always felt like it might suffocate me if I stood still too long. This Las Vegas autumn weather? Sublime. I didn’t even have to wear my jacket.
I shifted my weight back and forth as I craned my neck to peer down the road. I was so nervous that it was impossible to stand still. I hadn’t seen Austin for three months, but that wasn’t what made my heart skitter around in my chest like an excited puppy. Uncertainty, worry, and hope all battled for dominance, and my hand instinctively fell to my belly to cover the swell that was now starting to show through my shirt.
It wasn’t long after Austin had left that I’d started to suspect what was happening to my body, but since we’d been safe and taken precautions, it took longer than it should have to be able to admit the truth to myself.
I hadn’t told him yet and wasn’t sure how he would react. Getting pregnant had been an accident. Maybe I should have told Austin about it as soon as the test came back positive, but I wanted to be able to break the news face to face. It had been hard to keep it a secret from him, but some things just shouldn’t be done over the phone. An unexpected pregnancy was one of those things.
This trip was his belated birthday present to me—a flight out to Vegas to see his show on opening night, and a week for us to hang out. It was also to see if Vegas was a place I could make a life too.
A car slowed down as it approached, but my excitement immediately vanished when I realized it wasn’t Austin. It was his mother.
Fuck me twice on Sundays. Of all the people who could have come to pick me up from the airport….
Chantel Stone hated my fucking guts, and the feeling was mutual. She hadn’t liked me since the moment she met me, but the Satin Cashmere Massacre had been the final nail in her well-constructed hatred of the girl next door. And then when Austin and I had started dating in junior year of high school? Part of me wondered if letting him do Rising Stars and moving to Vegas was Chantel’s last ditch effort to get her perfect son away from me.
I shifted the arm holding my jacket across my middle and waved, forcing a smile on my face. She shifted the car into park after she stopped in front of me. Chantel didn’t bother to get out, just pushed a button to pop the trunk open. I wheeled my suitcase around to the back and lifted it into the space, cringing every time a car sped by. When I climbed into the passenger seat, I saw her gaze land on my stomach before flicking up to my face. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, but I spoke before she could.
“Thanks for picking me up,” I said. “I thought Austin was—”
“He had a last-minute rehearsal.” She faced forward and looked into the rearview mirror before pulling out into traffic.
I fisted my hand in the jacket that was in my lap and reminded myself that no matter how much I hated this woman, she was Austin’s mother and for that reason alone, I needed to show her respect. “I could have taken a cab. You didn’t have to trouble yourself.”
Her chin lifted. “Not a problem.” She threw me another loaded glance. “Hungry?”
“No. I grabbed a pretzel in the terminal,” I said carefully. Chantel Stone had never cared about my well being before. What was her deal? I just wanted to get to the show and see Austin.
She made a noncommittal noise, and I watched warily as the roads she took seemed to steer us away from the hustle and bustle of the strip where Dueling Cellos was in residence. My suspicions were confirmed when she pulled into the lot of a coffee house and parked. She reached around and pulled a purse from the floorboard behind her seat and opened her door. “Let’s go have some coffee and a little chat.”
Coffee and a chat? She had tried to force Austin to stop dating me, and it hadn’t worked. She’d tried grounding him, but he just snuck out or saw me when she wasn’t home. She’d finally given up on trying to separate us when Rising Stars came along and did the job for her.
“But the show—”
“There’s plenty of time,” she responded firmly before getting out and shutting the door.
I was alone in the car for a few seconds, and I briefly considered pulling out my phone and calling a cab to get me, but figured that getting on Chantel’s bad side while thousands of miles from home probably wasn’t in my best interest. I grabbed my backpack that held my wallet, and followed her inside where she’d already gotten a table. I scanned the place and realized it was more of a cafe and that unlike Starbucks, you had to find a table and wait for a server to take your order. Impatience gnawed at my nerves. This was going to take forever.
My eyes blazed daggers at the hostess as she took her sweet ass time gathering menus and scanning the nearly empty cafe as if wondering which of the dozens of free tables to seat us at.
Once we were seated, Chantel was quiet as she scanned the menu, making a monumental effort to ignore me. I felt like a peasant kneeling before a queen, waiting for her to acknowledge my presence and allow me to speak. It wasn’t until the server came by and took our orders that Chantel finally gave me her full attention.
“I’m sure you’re well aware that I do not support the idea of you moving out here.”
I tilted my head at her candidness and furrowed my brows. “I’m not sure why you would be concerned.” Lie. I knew exactly why she was concerned. When I was around, her perfect son rarely listened to her advice.
She sat with her back ramrod straight and folded her delicate hands on the table in front of her. “This show is a huge opportunity for my sons and your presence here can be nothing but a distraction.”
I shook my head. “I know how important this is to Austin and Dallas. I would never—”
“Despite what your intentions might be,” she said sharply, interrupting me, “you are a distraction. Everything has gone smoothly the last few months preparing for this night. Opening night. And in the last two days, Austin has been unfocused and careless because his mind is elsewhere.” She gave me a pointed look. “Just the idea of your arrival today had him so distracted that they required an additional practice to make sure all the glitches were worked out.”
“Austin will be fine.” I waved my hand dismissively. “You know he always gets nervous in rehearsals but is perfect when he performs. All of his recitals were like that.”
“This is not a recital,” Chantel snapped. “This is a multi-million-dollar show.” She looked at me like I was the dirt on the bottom of her shoes. The server dropped off our order, and Chantel offered her quick thanks before turning back to me. “And what do you think it’s going to do to him if you show up like this?” She gestured toward me, her mouth twisted into a sneer.
I knew that I was beginning to show, but I hadn’t thought it was that obvious. I was naturally thin and athletic, so I figured most people would assume I’d put on a little weight. No one back in Buckley had noticed. Reflexively, I crossed my arms over my stomach, annoyed that she knew before I could tell Austin. “I wanted to tell him in person.”
She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “On opening night? And what exactly do you expect to happen?” Leaning forward, she held me in her steely gaze.
Anger coursed through me, flushing my skin. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “But he deserves to know.”
I didn’t know what to expect as far as Austin’s reaction was concerned. I’d had time to adjust to the shock of my situation and to accept that my future had been set on a path I hadn’t anticipated. I hoped Austin would be supportive, but I had no expectations of him. I would never force my decisions on him. “It’s his,” I added.
Chantel studied me. “So you say.”
I bit back all of the ugly words I wanted to hurl at her. Making an enemy out of Chantel Stone right now was the wrong thing to do. But I also wasn’t going to stoop to her level and argue about whose baby I was carrying. I knew the truth. I pressed my lips together to make sure I didn’t say anything offensive.
“Was this your plan all along? To trap him?” she goaded.
I flinched. “No. I would never ask him to do something he didn’t want to.”
“Then you know as well as I do that the best thing to do right now is to walk away and never see him again.”
My stomach dropped like an anchor. That wasn’t something I’d even considered. “I can’t do that.” My voice was quiet, and I was horrified at the idea of turning my back on Austin, of leaving him.
“Then get rid of it.” She tilted her head toward my stomach.
It. Like the life inside me was just a candle to be put out. My arms tightened protectively over my stomach. “You can’t be serious,” I said, disgusted.
“A baby will ruin him.”
I huffed in astonishment. “How can a—”
“Right now, all of his waking moments are dedicated to the show—rehearsals, promotion, performing, and creating. He’ll be working seven days a week. He needs to put his efforts into making this a success. It is his career. His future. If you cared about him, if you wanted him to succeed, why would you put this kind of pressure on him? Especially on opening night?”
She wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know and hadn’t already worried about. I’d seen how tired and stressed he was during our conversations over Skype. That was part of the reason I hadn’t already told him. I knew he needed to focus. But on the other hand…
“He needs to know.”
Chantel shook her head. “Does he? What if you tell him and he feels obligated to quit the show to raise a family with you—”
“I would never ask him to!” I cried out vehemently.
She held up a finger. “But he would feel guilty if he didn’t. If he were to quit the show to raise a family with you, it would not only ruin his future but Dallas’s as well.”
“I would never ask him to do that,” I said, tears welling in my eyes. “I’m not here to ask him to take care of me. I can take care of myself just fine. I’m just here to support him on opening night. I just want to tell him the truth. He’s my best friend, and I want to see him. I love him.” I lifted my hands as if I could show her the weight of my feelings for her son.
Taking a deep breath, Chantel reached into her purse and pulled out a checkbook. “How much would it take for you to walk away right now?” She flipped open the booklet and looked up at me expectantly as she held a pen over the blank check.
“You have to be fucking kidding me,” I said through clenched teeth. “This is your grandchild.” My hand clenched the fabric over my stomach.
“Well, that remains to be seen. The point is, I’m offering to make it worth your while to protect your future as well as that of both of my sons.”
“You want to pay me off? You think I’ll take money and just walk away?” This woman was so much more disgusting than I’d ever realized. How had she given birth to someone as amazing as Austin?
But Chantel Stone was oblivious to my arguments. She was bent over the checkbook scribbling away, and I wanted to snatch the pen away from her and stab it through her hand.
She tore off the check and flicked it across the table between us. It spun a few times like a frisbee before it settled in front of me. “I can’t tell you what to do with your life,” she said looking pointedly at my stomach, “but I want to keep you from destroying my son’s.”
My eyes dropped to the check in front of me, to see what she thought her son’s life was worth, and my eyes burned when I saw $50,000. I knew the Stones were well off, but to write a check like that was incomprehensible. And at the same time it made the life of my unborn child, the life of her son, seem worth so little.
I grabbed the check and tore it into a dozen pieces before sprinkling it into my cup of juice. Standing up, I snatched my backpack and stormed out of the cafe, afraid I might strangle her if I stayed. I ignored her as she followed me out of the cafe, calling my name in frustration. Luckily, it didn’t take me long to flag down a cab.
“The Venetian,” I said, sliding into the backseat.
The man nodded, and I buckled my seatbelt as he drove away. I peered over my shoulder to see Chantel Stone standing in front of her car as she stared after me, wondering what I planned to do.
But despite my desire to ignore her warning, her words warred inside my brain for the entire ride. She wasn’t entirely wrong. I knew what Austin was like. He always did the right thing. If I told him about the baby, he would want to give it the perfect life. He’d seen what a life without my father had done to me. He would never want to be the absentee dad. And the responsibilities of Dueling Cellos might demand that of him.
I’d already considered the possibility that if I told him the truth, there was a chance he might want to leave the show. But I’d also thought I’d be strong enough to convince him otherwise, that we could make it all work out...his dream and my new responsibility.
The problem was, I’d never considered his manipulative mother in my plans. That check was just proof that she would always be interfering, trying to tear us apart. She had never wanted me to be a part of Austin’s life, and it was clear she was willing to do whatever she could to make sure my child wasn’t either. It was one thing to stand up for myself against Chantel Stone, but could I willingly subject an innocent child to her hatred and judgment?
No matter how much she said she wanted the best for Austin, Chantel Stone would undoubtedly force him to make an impossible choice. And I knew, I knew that she would do everything in her power to make Austin doubt me, the baby, and my intentions. I didn’t want Austin to have to choose. I wasn’t sure I could take the rejection or be the cause of ruining his future.
Staring out the window as the cab navigated down streets and past casinos like a rat in a maze, a gut wrenching thought entered my mind. If I didn’t tell Austin about the baby, he would never have to decide at all. If I didn’t tell him, that decision, right or wrong, would be mine to bear. There would be no need for him to make a sacrifice. There would be no chance that he would resent me, or our child, for destroying his future. There would be no chance of Chantel whispering lies and spreading doubt while we tried to make a life together.
The driver dropped me off on the sidewalk in front of the Venetian, and I handed over a few of the carefully saved bills that I’d spent all summer squirreling away for this trip. I looked up at the hotel that loomed in front of me, the architecture and manmade river giving it a lovely, manufactured beauty. I lingered in the shadow of the beautiful building, leaning against a stone railing as gondolas floated underneath the bridge where I stood. Nearby, an elaborate sign the size of a small house rose above the street where videos of the Venetian shows and the nightclubs showed over and over again.
I must have watched the clip for Dueling Cellos at least twenty times as I thought about my options. The video of Dallas and Austin was magical. The music. The lights. The dancers. The passion on their faces as they played… The show was everything they’d worked so hard for. Everything they deserved.
As the burn in my eyes bubbled over into tears that rolled down my cheeks, I knew. I knew I couldn’t ruin this for them. I couldn’t take away Austin’s choice. And if I told him I was pregnant, I would take it away. Deep down I knew he would give everything up, even if I didn’t ask him to. He wouldn’t let our child grow up the way I had, without a father.
With a heavy heart, I turned from the opulent hotel and headed for the street. I found another cab and asked the driver to take me to the airport. I’d been in Vegas for less than two hours, and I was already leaving.
I used up most of my meager savings to buy a new plane ticket and then I found a seat where I could wait for my flight. Surrounded by the lights and bells and chimes of the slot machines, I didn’t find them as whimsical as I had a few hours ago. All I noticed was how often someone gambled and didn’t win. As I sat there, it struck me as bittersweet that even though I was the perpetual optimist and risk taker, I was willing to give up so easily this time. But the truth was, there were plenty of things I was willing to gamble on. Austin’s future just wasn’t one of them.
When my flight was called, I grabbed my backpack and walked down the tunnel without looking back. The ticket I had bought didn’t take me home to Buckley, Maryland. The idea of living next door to Austin’s empty house was too much to bear. Instead, I’d gotten a flight to Texas where my oldest brother lived. It was the only place I could think to go.
Jimmy’s wife, Beth, folded me into her arms after finding me in the baggage claim where I was stupidly staring at the empty luggage carousel.
“I couldn’t go home,” was all I said to her.
“Stay with us as long as you want, Frankie.” She ran her hand over my snarled hair. “I need someone to help keep Jimmy in line anyway.”
I nodded in silence and let her lead me out of the airport.
Two weeks later, Nana sent my things to me, including the suitcase I’d forgotten in Chantel Stone’s trunk. When I opened it up to unpack, there was a folded sheet of paper inside.
“You made the right choice,” it said. “It’s not too late to make this go away altogether.” There was another $50,000 check included inside.
I wanted to rip the note and check to shreds, to annihilate everything in sight. But instead, I folded the paper up carefully and stuck it in my wallet. I decided if I was giving up Austin, if I was going to do the one thing that would make him hate me forever, I was going to keep that money and create a different future.
***
I hadn’t seen Austin since he left my house earlier. Once I’d come to terms with what he’d told me, I wanted to find him and tell him how sorry I was. I wanted to give him comfort and find some of my own. I had loved Dallas like one of my brothers, and the knowledge that I would never see him again, that I had given him and Austin up so easily, was crushing. But when I went over and knocked on Austin’s door, he didn’t answer.
The need to be reckless pulled at me, and I remembered that when I’d gone to get the crow bar out of the shed earlier, I’d seen my old dirt bike in the corner. It was covered in a fine coating of dust and probably needed a little oil and gas, but I figured I could get it running.
After battling through four years of cobwebs and filth, I managed to get my old bike dislodged from the other gardening tools. There were long gouges in the paint from all the times I’d crashed or sideswiped something when I had trained. Austin liked to tease me and call my bike Betty Jean. He argued that it was a grandmotherly name and that my bike was almost as old as our elderly neighbor Mrs. Crantz, who was at least one hundred and three and looked ten times more run down.
But to me, Betty Jean was a badass name. My bike had taken its share of beatings and it still ran like a dream.
Or at least it used to.
I backed it down the small ramp and into the yard where I gassed it up and fiddled around with it until I had it idling happily. I gave it a slow test run around the property, and when everything seemed to still be in working order, I steered it down the driveway and loaded it into the back of my truck.
Betty Jean. That was a dependable name. I ran my hand along the cracked leather of the seat and the chipped plastic of the body before heading back to the shed.
In an old plastic storage container, I found my boots, my helmet, and the rest of my riding gear. I shoved everything in the passenger seat of my truck and after grabbing a bottle of water from my fridge, I headed out toward the off-road trail where I used to ride. There was a track nearby, but I wasn’t in the mood to do jumps and tricks today. I just wanted to lose myself in the ride. There were a few people who liked to ride ATV’s on the trail I chose, but it never used to be crowded. I hoped that nothing had changed since I’d been gone.
It was late afternoon by the time I parked. The sun was still baking as it hung in the sky, but the trees overhead promised enough shade to make the ride comfortable even if I was dressed head-to-toe in riding gear.
After hauling my bike out of the bed of the truck, I dressed quickly and then slid on the helmet. It smelled faintly like summer afternoons, the lemon-scented soap I used to religiously clean the helmet with, and gasoline. Not a bad smell, but a bittersweet one. The smell of my childhood.
I fastened the helmet and then slid on my gloves. Straddling the bike, I went through the familiar motions until a few confident flicks of my heel on the kick starter had old Betty Jean growling impatiently.
The vibration of my bike under me settled some of the nagging feelings in my gut. I pressed the gas and turned toward the trail, allowing the back wheel of the bike to spin out in a jaunty arc before placing my feet on the pegs and taking off down the trail. I splashed through mud puddles and sped down the familiar turns of the trail, feeling the negativity fade with each minute that passed. The sunlight dappled across me, the leaves swayed in the breeze I created, and the only sound was my breath and the hum of my bike.
To me, it always sounded like freedom.
***
The trail was starting to get dark as I made my way back to my truck. It wasn’t evening yet, but thanks to the tint of my visor and the canopy of thick trees overhead, it was darker than it should have been and it was getting difficult to see the obstacles in front of me. When I broke through the cover of trees, I was surprised to see another vehicle parked next to mine—a shiny new truck that made mine look like it had been cobbled together from random scraps. The truck was familiar, and so was the figure sitting on the tailgate.
My first thought at seeing Austin was that something was wrong. I threw on the brake as soon as I neared my truck, the back wheel fishtailing in a cloud of dust. I engaged the kick stand with a nudge of my boot and turned the engine off. I’d barely gotten the helmet off my head when I noticed that Austin had already closed the tailgate of his truck and was rounding the side of his vehicle to pull open the driver’s side door.
I finally came to my senses. “You’re leaving?”
He tossed the bottle of water he’d been holding inside the truck and turned his head to look at me. “Yup.”
“Is something wrong? Were you here to talk to me?” I asked in confusion.
He shook his head. “Nope.” He gripped the door frame as if to get inside the truck.
I tucked my helmet under my arm and propped it on my hip, frowning at him. “What were you doing here then?”
He’d already started to get into his seat, but stopped and turned back to face me. “What I’ve always done.”
I raised my eyebrows at him in question because I had no idea what he was talking about.
His hand was on the roof of the truck. He pushed off angrily and took a few steps toward me, the early evening sun bathing him in gold. “It’s not safe to go riding alone. If something happened to you, no one would know.”
His words caught me by surprise. He’d come to keep an eye on me? Sure, he’d always kept me company on rides when we were kids, but…but that was when we were best friends. When we were Frankie and Austin. What were we now? Neighbors? Enemies? Frenemies?
I didn’t know what we were anymore, but the fact that he’d shown up, even if he didn’t want to feel the obligation to do so, still made me feel grateful. I was thankful that there was something, a shred of our shared past, that still linked him to me. Maybe it was selfish to feel that way, but I couldn’t help but want it to be true no matter how unfair it was to Austin.
He turned back toward his open door, and I quickly got off my bike so I could follow him. I grabbed his arm, and he allowed me to turn him to face me.
“Thanks,” I said.
He nodded once.
“And I’m sorry. I’m sorry about Dallas.” My fingers tightened on his arm. “I’m sorry about…everything.”
Austin’s jaw clenched and unclenched a few times as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the right words. Or maybe he just couldn’t share them. “Don’t ride alone anymore,” he finally said. Then he pulled his arm out of my grip and got into his truck.
I returned to my bike and moved it out of the way, watching him the entire time as he backed his truck out of the spot and then headed down the road toward home. The fact that he’d come here, had known I was here and cared if I got hurt…I had to unzip my motocross jacket because I suddenly couldn’t breathe.
If this was how protective of me he was when he hated me, I could only imagine what he would have done if I had walked inside the Venetian all those years ago instead of walking away.
It was overwhelming…the heartache. The remorse. The undeniable truth that even though I hated the choice I made, it was the only thing I could have done to protect his future from his intense need to protect me. He would have given it all up and yet the greedy part of me wished I had let him.
I wished Austin would come back so I could tell him everything. I wanted to tell him that I regretted not staying in Vegas. I regretted not telling him the truth. I regretted that I never contacted him again.
As the dust from his departing vehicle finally settled and his taillights were long gone, one thought echoed through my mind.
I regret it all.